


The Early Summer Rains (June 2015)

by liz_marcs



Series: Distant Voices [4]
Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Future Fic, Gen, Post-Season/Series 06, UST, melancholia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 10:51:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8053501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liz_marcs/pseuds/liz_marcs
Summary: (Jeff) Maybe by the end of summer he’ll be nothing more than another Troy. One of the guys she wished liked her back but never did when it really mattered, and thank God it worked out that way because her life is so much better for it.





	The Early Summer Rains (June 2015)

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: Part of the "Distant Voices" series. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Annie Edison, Ian Duncan, Jeff Winger, Frankie Dart, and all associated characters and organizations are the property of Krasnoff/Foster Entertainment, Dan Harmon Productions, Russo Brothers Films, Universal Television, and Sony Pictures Television. Any mention of real life events and real people is not meant to imply that the people or incidents in question as they are used in the story have any relationship to reality. All original characters and the plot are mine. No payment was asked for or received in the writing of this story and no profit was earned. No copyright infringement is intended.

One week.

One fucking week.

That’s all he gets between the end of Greendale’s spring semester and the start of preparing for summer semester.

Most of the heavy lifting is already done, in large part because of Frankie’s frightening efficiency in making sure the trains run on time.

Maybe more like on time-ish.

Last he saw Frankie she was still complaining that May 12 was far too late in the game for locking down summer semester plans. When Jeff had pointed out that it was vast improvement over years past, which near as he could tell pretty much went on the make-it-up-as-you-go-along system, Frankie gave him the blank stare equivalent of an Annie gasp.

Still, the syllabi (yes, he knows the right word now) for his three-course workload are checked off on Frankie’s spreadsheet as complete and submitted, the books required for his classes are chosen, and he’s figured out the location of his assigned classroom.

Go him.

So he’s got one glorious worry-free week where he can do whatever the hell he wants. The sun is shining. The sky is that deep, Colorado blue that he secretly loves. It’s not too hot. Most kids are still trapped in the grip of their schools and year-end tests.

It’s a wide open day with so many options to choose from.

Too many options, really.

 Jeff glowers at his bedside alarm clock as 10:01 a.m. ticks over to 10:02.

He rolls over and goes back to sleep.

 

* * *

 

The day before he has to report back to Greendale for Frankie’s mandatory teacher orientation, Annie Skypes him.

He forgets who suggested the once-a-week call. Did he ask her to call him? Did Annie promise to call without prompting? All he really remembers is how she sealed the deal with a kiss on his cheek that lasted just a little too long.

It’s the little things like that he remembers the most clearly from the week before Annie left. The way they’d casually touch each other like friends, but lingering a few seconds longer than actual just-friends would. The way they’d glance at each other out of the corner of their eyes, even when they were alone. The hugs that were a little too tight. The smiles that were a little too wide.

The sudden silences in conversation that felt a little bit too much like they were both holding their breath.

All the little pauses, hiccups, and dangling threads that just didn’t seem to go anywhere because there was nowhere to go.

Not then, anyway.

As Jeff impatiently paces his apartment waiting for Annie’s call, he realizes that maybe there never will be a _there_ to go to. He waited too long and threw too much shit Annie’s way to make _there_ a possibility. But when Annie’s face comes to life on the screen, he pushes all of the doubts aside as he feels the tension in his shoulders relax.

Then it’s off to the races.

He tells her some outrageous lies about how he spent his one week of freedom before getting sucked back into Greendale’s craziness ( _no way_ is he going to admit that he spent most of it sleeping, watching TV, drinking, working out at the gym, and masturbating… _especially_ that last one) that leave her breathless from laughing so hard.

She tells him about the apartment and her roommates (which she got in some kind of a friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend-of-Frankie deal), her embarrassing inability to navigate the Metro her first two days there (God, Britta would _laugh_ at her if she knew), the sightseeing she managed to do in her one week of freedom before reporting for the first day of her internship  and all the sightseeing she still has to do (thankfully she landed the paid internship version, and she really wants to see what an ocean looks like, so splurging on a weekend in Ocean City looms large on her to-do list), the weather (it’s _so warm_ and _damp_ , everything sticks to her after five minutes), and her nervousness (she’s not worried about the work, but she is worried about fitting in).

Annie, it appears, knows damn well how to take full advantage of a summer day even when faced with the prospect of being trapped in an office building for at least 40 hours a week.

Her excitement about embarking on new adventures is such a palpable thing that Jeff feels it physically in his gut. He can feel his smile getting tighter and less genuine as she blithely chatters about the fun things she’s done and how it’s only just the _start_ , because she has plans to take full advantage of everything while she’s there.

He’s happy for her. Really, he is. The world is finally starting to open up to her in a way it never really did for him. She worked hard for it. She _deserves_ it.

But it’s going to change her in some fundamental ways. Maybe it already has. Maybe by the end of summer he’ll be nothing more than another Troy. One of the guys she wished liked her back but never did when it really mattered, and thank God it worked out that way because her life is so much better for it.

“Annie, seriously. Stop worrying. You’re going to kill it,” Jeff assures her in a voice that sounds _almost_ sincere even to his own ears. “Go get ‘em, Agent Cooper.

Annie laughs. “I’m pretty sure they won’t send an intern to Twin Peaks.”

He blinks in surprise. _You should date a woman who doesn’t think Monty Python is the snake from Harry Potter_. Who said that to him? Pierce? No. That woman Pierce dated for all of a couple of hours. What was her name?

“You’ve actually seen _Twin Peaks_?” Jeff asks out loud.

Annie rolls her eyes. “And _Fire Walk with Me_.”

Jeff laughs. “Abed?”

“Abed,” Annie agrees.

Jeff snaps his fingers. “Doreen!”

Annie stills to such an extent that for a moment Jeff thinks the video froze. The illusion is broken when Annie quietly asks, “Doreen?”

Jeff waves a dismissive hand. “Some woman Pierce dated for all of two hours before she dumped him. I mean, _right in front of me_ dumped him. It was pretty impressive. Doreen. You’d think I’d remember that name. That’s my mother’s name.”

The space between Annie’s eyebrows crinkles in obvious confusion. God help him, Jeff finds it unbearably cute.

“Why would you be trying to remember someone _Pierce_ dated?” Annie asks.

“I was out running and for some reason the whole incident popped into my head,” Jeff smoothly lies. “It’s been driving me crazy for the past two days trying to remember her name.”

“Oh, I totally get that. At least you didn’t wake up in the middle of the night shouting her name.” Annie grins at him before adding quickly. “Not that something like that’s ever happened to me. Just that I’ve heard it’s happened to some people. And if Abed ever says that I pounded on his bedroom door at three in the morning yelling that I was right and he was wrong and I just remembered why, just know that he’s making it up.”

“Riiiiight. Because you wouldn’t do that at all,” Jeff teases.

Annie dissolves into giggles.

Jeff shakes his head. “Hey, did Abed ever subject you to Monty Python?”

Annie snorts. “What do you think?”

“Let me guess. _Holy Grail_ was played on repeat at some point during your roommateship?” Jeff asks.

“Try _Life of Brian_.” Annie fondly shakes her head. “He has this weird jealousy thing about that movie. Something about how they nailed Meta Jesus.”

“Meta Jesus?”

“Yeah, I don’t know what he meant by that, either.” Annie shrugs. “I learned that sometimes it was best not to ask.”

The conversation meanders a little after that. Jeff’s reluctant to cut the connection, but when he sees Annie stifling a yawn he quickly does some math in his head. It’s got to be past midnight where she is and her first day on the job is tomorrow. Much as he doesn’t want to, he wraps things up and wishes her luck.  

After they say their good-byes and Jeff shuts down the computer, he sags in his chair. The time difference between them is a problem. Sooner or later Annie’s going to tell him that she can’t keep up with their once-a-week Skyping and they’ll be reduced quick phone calls or texting each other. Oh, she’ll give Skyping a good try, but after a month, six weeks on the outside, Annie will tell him that it’s not possible for her to keep doing it between her internship and her tourist bucket list and all of the new friends she’ll have in her life.

He can’t blame her. He honestly can’t. She’s got to make the most of her time in D.C. if she’s going to get the future she wants. Part of that is building a network and forging new friendships. Specifically, friendships with non-Greendale people who can actually do something for her that’s more meaningful than aimless conversation.

Jeff’s thoughts wander to that unopened bottle of Serbian Rum Pierce had forced on him years ago that’s still lurking in the back of one of his cabinets.

God. Not now. Not ever.

He grabs his coat and heads for the door. The liquor store down the street’s still open. If he’s going to drink, he’s at least drinking something that won’t destroy every neuron in his head.

 

* * *

 

The best Jeff can say about his life when he slouches into the cafetorium’s last row is that he’s at least going to get paid for his attendance. Otherwise, his life _sucks_. He overslept. He has a raging hangover.  He’s at the starting line for a summertime slog through yet another pointless exercise in pretending to teach to students pretending to care.

How the hell did his life come to _this_?

Most of the other teachers look as hung-over, washed up, and as irritated as he feels. It’s weirdly comforting. Misery loves company and all that.

Just as Frankie takes to the stage someone drops into the seat to Jeff’s left. He sits up to shoot an intimidating glare at his unwanted companion to see…

“Duncan?”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Duncan grumbles as he matches Jeff’s slouch.

“Not saying anything,” Jeff mumbles as he slouches lower.

“I’m gone for one bloody year, and everything’s gone tits up,” Duncan complains. “ _Teacher orientation_? Did someone kill Craig? Is Chang back in charge?”

“You haven’t met Frankie, I see,” Jeff mutters. “Speaking of which, where’d you go off to this time?”

“Rehab.”

Jeff swivels his head to look Duncan over. “That’s crap. You’re the most hungover person here.”

“Didn’t take.”

“Duh-doy. And rehab doesn’t last a whole year.”

“I gave it a real go. Rehab. Intensive group therapy. Meetings. But the constant meeping about twelve steps and higher powers convinced me that everyone around me needed a stiffy so I got a running start before I jumped off the wagon. May have gotten a bit lost in the weeds at one point there.” Duncan shrugs. “Least I can think straight again.”

Duncan’s casual dismissal of his complete and utter failure to get sober sets Jeff’s teeth on edge, although he can’t quite say why it bothers him. Duncan’s a drunk, sure, but at least he’s a happy one. Sober Duncan can be kind of a dick.

Jeff shrugs off his unease. “Yeah, well, welcome back to the small time, buddy. You’re going to _love_ Frankie. No more booze in the teachers’ lounge.”

“That’s outrageous!” Duncan shouts. “I have a contract!”

Everything and everyone goes silent.

Jeff puts his face in his hands and slouches lower in his seat. He finds himself hoping that he’s a secret X-Man who’s just about to discover the mutant ability to turn invisible or phase through the floor. The fact that he’s actually hoping he’s got untapped superpowers is a sure sign that he’s been friends with Abed for way more years than is entirely healthy. _Fuck_.

“Professor Ian Duncan. I see you really are back.” Frankie’s deadpan delivery pretty much says it all.

Jeff side-eyes Duncan and sees the other man is about to launch into a very loud, and most likely incoherent, protest about the distinct lack of school-funded alcohol for the teaching staff. God, his pounding head does _not_ need this to dissolve into a loud fight, especially when one of the combatants is sitting right next to him.

“Dunc, _not now_. She’ll gut you in front of all these witnesses,” Jeff urgently whispers. At the last moment, he adds a whopper of lie. “I once saw Frankie gut _Shirley_ 50 ways to Sunday in public and walk away wiping the blood from her fangs. She bested _Shirley_ , Duncan. Think about that.”

Okay, Frankie and Shirley never even met, but Duncan doesn’t know that. Besides, if he’s going to lie to make a point, he might as well say that the dirtiest fighter he knows got tromped to make that point.

Duncan’s eyes narrow and for a moment, Jeff thinks that he’s going to push the issue anyway. Instead, Duncan says, “I think we need to have a chat later.”

“Agreed,” Frankie clips.

He can start the whole invisibility thing or phasing through the floor thing any time now. Any time. Now.

Shit. Still firmly seated in his chair. He can practically feel Frankie’s glare.

Well, time to sack up and stop cringing.

Jeff sits up and bravely looks up at the stage. Yup, he definitely wasn’t imagining the fact that Frankie was and still is glaring at him instead of Duncan. _That’s unfair_ , Jeff thinks. _I diffused the situation. She should thank me._

Frankie shuffles her papers at the podium as the entire teaching staff uncomfortably shift in their seats.

After a sufficiently intimidating pause that Jeff has to admire for its sheer effectiveness, Frankie finally adds, “Welcome back from your leave of absence, Professor. I’ll stop by your office after the meeting so we can go over the changes we’ve made in the past year.”

Something must’ve gotten through Duncan’s alcohol-sodden brain, because he has the presence of mind to look slightly nervous about the prospect.

Frankie merely smiles and dives right back into her big picture overview of how Team Greendale is going to use the relatively less-hectic summer months to institute some real changes that will carry over into the coming academic year.

Jeff slouches back down into his seat and tunes everything out to such an extent that he completely misses the switch from Fankie’s state of the college address to Craig’s pointlessly upbeat speech designed (by Frankie, no doubt) to boost staff morale.

Judging by the looks on the faces of his fellow teachers as they file out of the cafetorium, Jeff thinks that he probably didn’t miss much.

 

* * *

 

The week before the official start of Summer School goes marginally faster than his one-week summer vacation. Only marginally.

There are meetings, and class prep sessions, and professional development workshops. Frankie obviously pulled out all the stops in dragging her mysterious network from the Outside World into her campaign to boost Greendale higher in Colorado’s academic rankings, judging by the dizzying amount of speakers, books, presentations, and “classroom tools” getting dumped on the academic and administrative staff at an alarmingly high rate.

While the part of Jeff that likes Frankie gives her credit for doing everything she can to bump Greendale at least one more rung up the higher education ladder, his more cynical thought is that Frankie is secretly conducting some kind of loyalty test to make sure everyone is committed to her Plan for Change. He knows his more cynical side is just talking crap, but it still doesn’t negate the fact that most of “professional materials” he shovels onto his office desk strikes him as an attempt to put lipstick on a piece of shit. The attempt is admirable, but at the end of the day, that piece of shit isn’t ever going to become a high fashion model no matter how much lipstick is applied.

Despite his own dim view of Frankie’s attempt at professionally developing a teaching staff that began praying for death years before Frankie even knew Greendale existed, Jeff is careful to show up sober (if a little hungover) to every scheduled activity on the docket. He does it not just because he genuinely likes Frankie, but because he’s also really, really committed to collecting a paycheck for minimum effort. He’s got bills to pay, crushing debt from his ill-fated foray as an independent lawyer to pay down, and absolutely zero by way of savings.

Hell, he even manages to score some minor victories during the week. He talked Duncan down from staging a drink-in in the teachers’ lounge (“Seriously, Ian. Just keep a bottle in your office desk. No one will care even if you throw up on a student during office hours.”), convinced Craig _not_ to spend an insane amount of money to jazz up the men’s room (“Yes, it’s time we fixed the broken mirror over the sink, but do we really need to cover all of the walls with mirrors? Also, we don’t need speakers to pump in music to make the ‘bio breaks’ more pleasant.”), and stop Frankie from committing murder (“I know it’s tempting, but killing Chang in front of witnesses isn’t the way to go. Wait until no one is around. ”).

Okay, maybe his victories were more like using a fire extinguisher to put out lit matches, but he has to keep his eye on the prize:  _collect paycheck, use minimum effort._ So the choice is stark. Put in minimum effort now to stop trouble before it starts, or put maximum effort in later when things inevitably spiral out of control. 

When Friday comes around, Jeff feels utterly justified in putting his feet up on his desk, breaking out the scotch, and pouring himself a celebratory glass. He survived a week of being a good little soldier. Next week, it’s back to the status quo.

“Yaaaaaay,” Jeff sarcastically cheers at the thought as he knocks back the glass. He reaches for the bottle to pour himself another. The hell with it. He’s been good all week. Exemplary, even. _Not once_ did he drink on campus. He deserves a second glass for that alone.


End file.
